“I need to go with them.” Deep in his brain he recognized the folly, but he truly meant it despite that.
“My lord, even if you were well enough to do so, I’d insist you stay here. Garla needs someone in charge, and if it’s not you, then Holder Zanlot would step in to claim regency on behalf of her Heir.”
“Damn, I forgot about her.”
“But with you here,” Tanres went on, “she can’t do much, not for a while. And we’ll certainly locate the Empir well before that.”
“Commander.” It was Primate Niko’s voice. Nalin had no difficulty recognizing it; he must be improving a little.
“A moment, Your Grace,” Nalin said, then pulled himself up a few inches to speak directly to Tanres. “I am the Empir’s Will. Whatever you learn, whatever happens, I must know immediately.”
“I understand, my lord,” Tanres replied, and before the primate could caution her again, she stood up and, with a nod, took her leave.
Nalin collapsed back down on the bed.
“My lord,” Niko said, stepping towards him. “It’s time to change your dressing. You’ll want some more nectar for that.”
“All right, all right.” Nalin waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ve done all I can for the moment anyway.”
The primate helped Nalin lift his head, and he handed Nalin a small cup. Nalin took one sip, then another, and a last to down the end of it. Cilla tasted a little like the mint leaves one chewed on at the end of a meal to freshen the breath. Except, of course, for the bitter aftertaste that followed it down. That left Nalin feeling nauseous. The discomfort passed quickly though, and soon he felt himself drifting away again.
“You will feel it this time, my lord,” Primate Niko said. “I gave you a bit less nectar. If you need more, let me know.”
Soon Nalin understood the function cilla nectar served under such circumstances. The primate lifted his wounded leg up, which sent an excruciating stab of pain from Nalin’s foot through his entire body. Then, the primate unwrapped the dressing slowly, gently, and although the pain grew no worse, it became no better either. Once the leg was exposed, each puff of air that slipped over it was like a hammer beating down upon the wound. Nalin gasped.
“I reset it when you were out before,” the primate explained as he worked. “The healer I’ve sent for can tell me what we do next. All I can do now is keep it clean.”
Nalin decided he was done with suffering and reached out a hand. Without shifting the leg at all, Primate Niko handed Nalin the second cup of nectar sitting on the table. Nalin took the cup and downed its contents, and within a few moments, all consciousness drifted into nothingness.
Their second night out, Ariannas and her four captors stopped to rest and eat just as they had the night before. With her hands bound behind her and her head covered by the hood soaked in something she couldn’t identify, they helped her from Pharaoh and sat her near warmth, presumably a fire. She listened as they spoke back and forth in Thristan and understood nothing of what they said. Why hadn’t she tried to learn their language while she was living amongst them? It could have proved useful, but no. Besides, she’d had other matters on her mind during her stay in the desert.
Someone yanked the hood from her head, and she took the first breath of fresh air she’d had since before they’d set out this morning. The same two men and two women as before—all young and with hair too short to braid—greeted her. She assumed they’d cut their hair to fit in while in Avaret.
The woman who seemed nominally in charge sat down in front of her with a plate of food. The ritual feeding of the captive, Ariannas thought. A little dried meat, a bit of cheese, an apple cut up in pieces small enough for her to eat in single bites, and then the water. Always the water. Several times a day they’d stop, lift the blinding, magic-binding hood up far enough to reveal her mouth and put a water bag to her lips. The first couple of times she’d coughed a bit, but she’d learned how to drink in this manner without choking on the water.
She ate and never said a word. She’d tried asking them questions last night when they’d stopped—where they were, where they were going, what their intentions for her were—but they’d ignored her. Even this woman sitting before Ariannas now and feeding her hadn’t responded. But Ariannas had watched as the woman’s eyes reacted to what she’d asked and couldn’t help but wonder if these four were under the command of someone else, someone to whom they were taking her. Someone who had warned them to say nothing to their prisoner and to keep the hood well soaked with whatever it was they soaked it in.
And, as before, once she’d eaten, they pulled the hood down over her face again. She lay down on the hard ground and felt the blanket someone placed over her. She couldn’t sleep with her hands bound behind her back, so, instead, she allowed her mind to wander. As always, her thoughts closed in on her last seconds of clarity—her failure to push before they’d hobbled her with the hood’s numbing potion and her last sight of Nalin.
If what she thought she’d seen was anywhere near accurate, Nalin’s falling horse could have injured him gravely. How badly was he hurt? Had her captors left him there, or had they set upon him and killed him? No way to know. These were questions that, though they plagued her, she hadn’t been able to ask when she had asked questions. Now, she chewed on those last memories over and over. He had spoken so gently of forgiveness. She had begun to realize that that had been the aim of his joining her on the trail—to speak of these things where the speaking could be private. And then, for him to have suffered a serious injury—or even to have died…. It took all she had to keep the tears from flowing.
And what of her nephew? Had he been spared? There was only one guard at the old palace. She should have ordered more, what with her only Heir there in residence, but it had never occurred to her. Not until…not until now when it was too late.
Her throat constricted with desolation, and unwelcome tears won out to well up in her eyes. She hated crying in this thing over her head; it was gross. On the other hand, at least no one else would know, unless she made noise, which she avoided.
After all that had occurred around her since her return from Earth—murder, death and injury—perhaps it was her turn to die. It seemed like a pretty stupid ending after Eloise’s buildup of her destiny, but perhaps this was all there was. Life did that sometimes—raised you up to bring you down—and it wasn’t like she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
The tears stopped. The sniveling stopped. She gasped and would have sat up if she weren’t being watched, and she knew eyes watched even though she couldn’t see them. A moment of simplicity had touched her, then released her. Like an urgent wind billowing the trees and lying down as quickly as it had risen up, she knew but lost the knowing between one breath and another. Fleeting insight rocked her to her core. She tried to catch it, but like a dream, it had escaped remembrance, leaving no substance behind, only the memory of its passing.
Damn. Like everything in her life, she’d lost this, too. All the crap Eloise had put her through, jumping from one world to another, keeping her mother from her. All the hard work she’d put in to transform herself in preparation for challenging her brother. All the hours and days of study required to take on the duties of Empir. Wasted? Had it all come down to this? Was this what she’d worked so hard for? To end up a murdered captive of some unhappy Thristans?
Damn. I agreed to this. I went along with this. I could have taken off from Korin the first chance I got while we were running off to Halorin. Or I could have disappeared within a crowd there, somehow shut down that…that…beacon…the watcher latched onto, and run away. To hell with Garla and all its precious needs. Not one single person gave a damn about my needs. It’s all been what Garla needs, what the people need, what the hermits need. To hell with them! Where are they now when I need them?
The tears flowed freely now, and she didn’t care about the yucky hood or anything, though she did care enough to keep her sobbing to herself. No point in lettin
g her captors know they’d gotten to her. But she cried and cried until she fell asleep, the tears still slipping from her eyes until slumber stole her rage.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
we will find her
“There’s some infection,” Hermit Titus said, “but I think it can be dealt with.”
Nalin sighed. This was not the news he’d hoped for when the healer from Solsta—who’d arrived a day later than expected—had entered his room and begun examining his leg. So three days after Lisen’s abduction and his injury, Titus had poked around without actually moving the leg at all. Even then, it had hurt like the Destroyer Itself because Nalin had refused anything for his pain until Titus had delivered his assessment.
“I must say, Your Grace,” the hermit said directly to the primate, “you performed an excellent realignment of the bones.”
Primate Niko smiled at the hermit and nodded primly, a gesture which only served to scrape along Nalin’s raw nerves. Damn self-congratulating hermits, he thought, then forced his own weak smile.
“I need to know when I can get up and move around,” he said. “I’m trying to run a country and supervise a search which, from bed, is impossible.”
The healer sighed. “Forgive me, my lord, but that’s not going to happen, not in the foreseeable future. For the next several days, I will be rubbing cleansing ointments into the wound, and I’ll be doing it at least every two hours. It’s a painful process. I doubt you’ll be able to tolerate it without some nectar.”
“Damn it!” Nalin pounded his fist into the bedding. “No. That’s unacceptable. I can’t be drugged all the time.”
Titus stepped up to the side of the bed, and Nalin recognized a sympathetic play for his surrender. “My lord, how much discomfort did I produce examining your leg? I saw you wince. You fought it well, but the pain was bad, wasn’t it? In order to ensure the ointment soaks deep into the wound, I’ll have to rub it for several minutes, causing a greater degree of pain. Let us try it with a minimal amount of cilla, and we’ll see how you feel. All right?”
Lisen was out there, if she still lived, awaiting rescue, and here he lay like a weak and useless child. Once again, she was far away, and he could do nothing. And this time he couldn’t even count on Rosarel to keep her safe. “All right. But I want to speak to Commander Tanres before you begin. And Jazel. Alone.”
“Aye, my lord,” Titus replied, and he and Primate Niko left the room. The servant who’d been standing by the door departed as well to summon the commander and the clerk.
Nalin lay there for several moments, impatience driving his struggle against the pain. His whole body ached from lack of movement, and he wanted to scream, not from pain but from frustration. He chuckled, amused at the absurdity of the image of multiple guards and servants running to his aid at the sound of that scream. He’d never been watched over so closely in his life.
“My lord?”
He turned his head toward the door and smiled. “Jazel. Welcome to my new office.”
She stepped over to the bed, her eyes scanning past his leg and then focusing on his face.
“I know. It looks bad, doesn’t it.” He tried to lighten the heaviness that always seemed to enter the room with someone seeing his leg for the first time.
“No,” Jazel lied—he could see it in her eyes. “What do you need, my lord?”
“I need for you to fetch everything on my desk from my quarters in the old palace.”
“Of course, my lord.”
More footsteps approached, and he looked past Jazel to the door. Commander Tanres paused there, and he raised his hand to beckon her in.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” He returned to Jazel as the commander entered. “Everything. I don’t care what it is. Since it looks like I’m going to be here for a while, I’d rather have it all here than have something left behind that has to be fetched later.”
“I’ll see to it now,” Jazel said and started to turn.
“And you, only you. Understand?”
“Aye, my lord.” And Jazel was gone.
“She’s very good at what she does,” Tanres commented. “Flandari chose well.”
“She chose you, too,” Nalin said.
“So, what can I do for you, my lord?”
Nalin tried to shift himself up a bit in the bed, but his body refused to cooperate. He felt like a great rock, forever embedded in hard soil. “You’ve been warned not to spend too much time with me. The healer wants to begin his treatment.”
“Aye, my lord,” the commander replied with a generous smile. “And I’m not used to being told what to do by a hermit.”
“No doubt.” Nalin took a deep breath. “I want reports, twice a day. Even if you have nothing to report, I want to hear it from you for myself.”
“I’d planned on that, my lord.”
“They’re going to have me on the nectar all the time for a while. I may not always understand you or even hear you. Make sure I focus on you before you speak. And be prepared to answer my summons if I’ve forgotten your last visit.”
“You are my Empir’s Will, my lord, and I consider you the senior commander of the search. I will do nothing without consulting with you, if I can, and if I can’t, I will inform you as soon as it’s possible to do so.”
“So, tell me. Is there anything new?”
Tanres shook her head slowly. “As I think I told you earlier, we believe they headed east, probably towards the desert, but the search parties have seen no sign on the road nor any indication of the abductors’ passage anywhere in the forest where they’ve looked so far.”
“Could they be traveling in the river?”
“It’s possible,” the commander replied, thoughtful, “but it would slow them down quite a bit. If they are in the river, we’ll catch up with them on the road and hear the horses splashing in the water. “
A commotion from out in the hall interrupted their discussion. Nalin’s hopes rose as the possibility of some discovery during the search wafted through his mind.
“Nalin!”
But the voice accompanying the footsteps burst his hopes like glass shattering on stone. Lorain, he thought. What the Destroyer does she want?
“Let her in,” he ordered the guard outside who obviously had tried to shield Nalin from this distraction.
Lorain flowed in, an expression of benign sympathy on her face, but the picture Nalin got in his slightly drug-addled mind was of a river slowly overrunning its banks and flooding everything in sight. She was here to drown him.
“Oh, Nalin, you poor thing.” She pushed past the commander who grimaced for Nalin’s benefit. Her eyes never paused on Nalin’s leg—not an ounce of concern there.
“One moment, Lorain,” Nalin said, raising his hand, and returned to Tanres. “Carry on, Commander.”
“Aye, my lord.” And with a quick nod, the commander left.
“Now, Lorain, what can I do for you? Obviously, dancing is out at the moment.”
“You are so brave,” Lorain oozed. Nalin hated it when she did that. It always meant trouble, like a snake slithering slowly closer.
“Please, Lorain, just say what you want. I have two healers waiting to cause me pain, and I’d like to get it over with.”
Lorain stepped right up to his bed and took his hand. “Nalin, it seems to me that since we’ve had no word or sign of the Empir for three days, we should start thinking about the ascension.”
“‘We,’ Lorain?”
“Well, I am the only Heir’s only parent. I should be part of this decision.”
“Lorain, it’s a bit premature to be considering the throning of the Heir, don’t you think?”
“I wasn’t thinking throning, Nalin. But some sort of official acknowledgment of his status perhaps?”
“No. Not yet. It’s too early. There’s still hope that the Empir will be found alive.”
“It’s been three days. Do you really think those filthy Thristans will let her live?”
&nbs
p; “Lorain.” Nalin heard a woman’s voice and looked past Lorain to see Bala striding in. When had she arrived? “Get out of here. He needs his rest, not your contentious aggravation.” He liked this Bala. He’d glimpsed her in passing previously, but to take Lorain on this way? “Out!”
“All right, all right. I’m leaving. I just hate to see Garla reduced to relying on the strength of anyone less than an Ilazer.” Lorain turned with a flourish and stomped out the door, and Nalin sighed deeply.
“Thank you,” he mouthed to Bala once Lorain was gone. He watched as Bala did the eye dance—the one that started with the quick stare at his leg—but this time, unlike all the others, she paused there, acknowledging the wound. And then, at last, she stepped to his side and sat down in the chair.
“Oh, Nalin. This whole situation is awful. The Empir gone and you in such a state. It hurts, doesn’t it.”
“A lot,” he admitted. “And it’s going to hurt more when they start treating the infection.”
“May I stay? I’ve brought father’s healing kit. I’m not up to working on your leg, but I might be able to help ease your pain, at least a little.”
For reasons his pained and drugged brain couldn’t fathom, it comforted him to have her here with him.
“Yes. Please,” he said. He shook his head at how pathetic he sounded.
“My lord, we must get this started,” the healer from Solsta pronounced as he stepped through the door. “No visitors.”
“She’s staying,” Nalin stated firmly, but he felt his stomach clench up tight at the hermit’s intentions.
“My lord,” Hermit Titus said to Bala, “this is not going to be pleasant.”
“Thank you,” Nalin commented weakly.
“Titus, isn’t it?” Bala said, then continued before he could answer. “I sat beside my father for weeks as he struggled for each breath before he died. At least I know Nalin will survive this.”
Nalin wanted to add something sarcastic, but his mental acuity failed him.
Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3) Page 14